


Rise of the Traitors

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drabble, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter References, Kissing, M/M, Muggle-born!Kurt, Pure-blood!Sebastian, Romance, Slytherin!Sebastian, slytherin!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4237641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt has run away from the wizarding world, trying to escape the inevitable, but Sebastian hunts him down, trying to get him to change his mind.</p><p>Harry Potter AU, Slytherin!Kurt, Slytherin!Sebastian</p><p>Sorry for the vague summary, but a lot unfolds in this story and I don't want to give it all away. This story is inspired by many different sources, but mostly from the argument about the prejudice that Slytherin House receives, how they are always perceived as evil, that it's ignorant to see the students in that house as eventually only being on the Dark Lord's side and that none of them would have wanted to fight against him. This story is from the standpoint of Slytherins who didn't want to become Death Eaters and didn't want to fight on that side, with a touch of Muggle-born discrimination tossed in.</p><p>This is my first attempt at a HP crossover. Don't crucify me if I get something wrong. (P. S. I also don't namedrop a lot in this story, to keep the focus on Kurt and Sebastian)</p><p>Warning for a few minor descriptions regarding blood and death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rise of the Traitors

“Pick a card, any card.” Kurt cuts his deck, shuffles it, and then fans the cards out for the perusal of the red-haired woman in front of him. Excited green eyes look over the cards - a brand new deck, opened at the start of the show, but none like any playing cards she’d ever seen before. Strange and intricate designs weave hypnotically on their backs, as if the pictures were changing before her eyes. She looks up at Kurt. He gives her an encouraging smile and a wink. She giggles, biting it behind her lip and shifting her eyes away before her freckled face turns red to match her hair. Kurt smiles wider. He’s got her. She’s in for a few bucks at the end of his show at least.

“Um…” Her fingers brush over the cards, her eyes moving between them and the magician’s handsome face, until she feels compelled to stop. She taps the card right beneath her middle finger and pulls her hand away.

“Wonderful!” Kurt beams. The rest of the cards dissolve into his hands as he separates the chosen one from the bunch and holds it up before the audience’s eyes so that they can see it and he can’t. Not that it matters. Kurt knows she’s chosen the five of diamonds. Besides, her fingerprint on the back of the card is all he needs to make this trick work. “Now remember the card. This is _your_ card…” Kurt steps forward until his forehead almost touches hers. “It’ll be looking for you later,” he says in a low, husky voice, purposefully making it sound suggestive, and she giggles again.

Kurt puts the card back in the deck and begins his fanciful shuffling. This is the part where most magicians palm the card and slip it up their sleeves, but not Kurt. He keeps his sleeves pulled halfway up his forearms so the crowd can see there’s nothing up them. Sleight of hand has always been Kurt’s specialty, even at school. Studying Potions and Transfiguration and Divination (not his favorite subject, but Kurt kind of has a knack) under the watchful eyes of skilled wizards, experts in their fields, anyone with a wand can perform magic. But using no magical ability and still being able to fool people - people standing so close to him that they can probably see their reflection in his eyes - that’s _real_ magic.

Kurt thinks so, anyway.

And he prefers it. He can’t remember anyone ever being killed by a card trick.

Kurt fans the cards out several times, then shuffles them several more. A few people _ooo_ and _ahh_ at his nimbleness. Others jeer (there are always one or two hecklers in any group – it’s more fun that way when he finally amazes the crowd). New people join – one man in particular whose sudden presence makes the hairs at the nape of Kurt’s neck stand of end. Kurt fumbles the cards when he appears, not that anyone else but this man can tell, and he laughs when Kurt does.

Kurt grits his teeth, determined to ignore him. He tosses the deck into the air and snatches a single card as the others fall, which, in itself, is quite a trick, and earns him a smattering of applause. Kurt twirls the snatched card between his fingers, then makes a show of revealing it to his audience. It changes a second before Kurt catches on, and not in enough time to stop the words, “Is this your card?” from leaving his mouth. Nervous laughter and a couple of _I told you so’s_ travel around the crowd.

“No,” the red-haired woman says, but she’s not disappointed. Her eyes are bright, certain that this can’t be the end of the trick.

Because she has faith – a childlike wonder in the power of magic that Kurt himself has begun to shun.

He’s a little disgusted by it, but he can’t let her down. He can’t extinguish that wonder.

Besides, he’d lose money if he did.

“Well, then,” he says, acting quickly. He snaps the fingers of his free hand, setting the card aflame, and when the smoke blows away, there’s her card, pinched between his fingertips – the five of diamonds.

The laughter turns to cheers. The woman claps, bouncing on her feet, much like a child.

But Kurt can feel sinister eyes on him, and he knows he has to move the show along. He kisses the card and hands it over to the woman, who nearly swoons when she takes it, staring at it with her jaw dropped, carefully slipping it into her pocket as if it were, by extension, a magical object.

“Okay, folks,” Kurt says, pulling a hat out of nowhere and handing it around, “that’s it for me, I’m afraid.” The audience groans their disappointment as the sound of change being tossed into his hat becomes louder. “But I’ll be here tomorrow to entice and delight, so remember to come back, and bring your friends. Your _rich_ friends.”

_Not likely._

Kurt hears the words in his head drowning out the laughter of the crowd, accompanied by the sound of a heavy coin dropping into his hat and upsetting the rest. Onlookers start to disperse. The red-haired woman with the playing card tucked in her pocket, one hand protectively covering it, peeks over her shoulder and gives him a shy wave. When Kurt gives her another gratuitous wink, she nearly skips down the street. Kurt can’t help it. The flirtier he acts, the more they come back, and _she_ left him a twenty.

A teenaged boy in black skinny jeans, black combat boots, and a black leather jacket, hands Kurt back his hat.

“That’s a wicked tatt you’ve got,” he remarks, peering uncomfortably close to Kurt’s inner arm. “I could have sworn that I saw it move.”

“Yeah, well, whatever you’re smoking, I want some,” Kurt quips without missing a beat, tugging down his sleeve until the cuff of his sweater covers the back of his hand. Sometimes when he gets caught up in the moment, he forgets about his mark and pushes his sleeves up too far. He really needs to stop doing that. It’s going to attract unwanted and dangerous attention one of these days.

“I’d share if I had any,” the boy laughs, waving goodbye and walking off with a group of equally black-clothed friends. Kurt waves back and waits till they’re out of earshot, until it seems like everyone in the crowd has gone, before he speaks to the one man who stayed behind.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Kurt hisses, gathering the money out of his hat and shoving it into his pocket. “Why are you always messing with my shit?”

“I’m helping you out,” Sebastian says, standing close but still sticking to the shadows - shadows he’s made longer to suit his purposes.

“I don’t need your help,” Kurt says, separating Sebastian’s sickle from his take and tossing it back at him. Kurt shrinks the hat down and shoves it in his pocket – the same pocket he’s enchanted to hold his wand (hazel, 11 ¾ inches, Hippogriff feather core, characterized as ‘unimpressionable’, which Kurt has always been rather proud of), most his clothes, some books, and a few emergency potions and other random items.

“Kurt, you’re one of the most gifted wizards I know," Sebastian says, watching Kurt pick up his cards, waving a hand over them and calling them to him, "but you’re entertaining Muggles with cheap card tricks on street corners for chump change. _And_ you ran off to America, no less. I mean, you couldn’t get any more bottom of the barrel if you tried.”

“Fuck you, Sebastian,” Kurt grumbles. He stuffs the cards in his pocket, where a new five of diamonds appears and the deck re-seals itself, and heads off down the street to find another corner to play. “What’s it to you?”

Sebastian circles in front of him, stopping him in the mouth on an alleyway, where stretching the shadows to cover them and casting a spell to dampen their voices won’t seem suspicious. “You know why I’m here.”

Kurt stops, contemplating turning and taking off the other way, but he can’t run forever. And he doesn’t want to keep running from Sebastian. Sebastian’s not one of them. He’s not a mindless zealot. “I’m not going back.”

“They’ve sent out conscription notices,” Sebastian says in a hushed voice. “You’re lucky I found you before they did.”

Kurt looks up at Sebastian with a sad but wicked grin. “They haven’t found me yet.”

“But they will,” Sebastian says grimly, “with this.” Sebastian grabs Kurt’s arm, pressing his thumb onto the mark Kurt’s hiding. Kurt grabs his arm back, tearing it from Sebastian’s grip no matter how much he regrets it.

It felt good to have Sebastian touch him again.

“I never asked for it,” Kurt says, moving past Sebastian and continuing on down the street. “It was forced on me.”

“I know,” Sebastian says, sympathetic to Kurt’s suffering, not reminding Kurt that the mark was forced on him as well. It might have been an effective argument, but it would have been selfish. Sebastian is not in Kurt’s position. Sebastian is a pure-blood. Getting the Dark Mark was expected of him. For Kurt, it was a brand, a sign of ownership, the way a rich rancher would do to cattle. “But they _will_ find you. And they haven’t been too kind to traitors…” Sebastian pauses with the heavy thud of his heart. “Especially Muggle-borns.”

Kurt stops walking again. He doesn’t have to imagine what that means. He heard rumors before he ran away. They left images that haunted him, of Muggle family members tortured, killed before a traitor’s eyes, or worse.

Left alive without bones or skin is a far worse fate than death.

Kurt thought that by faking his death the way he did, and then by putting distance between him and his dad, the Death Eaters would have no need to hunt his father down. But Kurt is wrong. He knows he’s wrong. Obviously, by Sebastian showing up, it proves his intricately created protective and masking spells have started to wear off. He was too selfish to erase his father’s memory of him forever. Kurt is naïve. He hopes they will live to see an end to this, and then he and his father can be reunited again.

“We’re on the wrong side of history, Seb,” Kurt says. “You know that. They expect us to fight. They expect us to kill and not just strangers – our teachers, our classmates, our friends…”

“I know, but look,” Sebastian says, taking Kurt by the arms and fighting for his elusive, downcast gaze, “it doesn’t have to be that way. _We_ get to decide.”

Kurt swallows down his shame only to have it replaced by fear. He knows what Sebastian is referring to, but as much as Kurt doesn’t want to kill in the name of hate, he doesn’t think he has the strength to stand up against it.

“We won’t be alone,” Sebastian continues. “There are others like us. Other Slytherins turning their back on the Dark Lord, on our families…”

“No,” Kurt answers firmly, his voice trembling. “I can’t.”

“We don’t have to be Death Eaters,” Sebastian stresses. “We have the power to change things. We have to do what’s right, even if it’s not what’s easy.”

Kurt shakes his head, but even as he refuses, Kurt knows he’ll go with him.

“I don’t want to die,” Kurt pleads.

Sebastian moves to take Kurt in his arms but Kurt steps away. Kurt pushing him away hurts, but Sebastian understands.

“Kurt, nothing says that…”

“I’ve seen it,” Kurt insists. “I die…and you die, too.”

That seems to halt Sebastian’s argument, but only for a second. “Well, if we both die, then we’ll die together.”

“Don’t be an ass!” Kurt exclaims giving Sebastian a rough shove. “This isn’t a joke! This isn’t another one of your schemes, blackmailing other students to get them to do what you want, jinxing them if they don’t. If you and I join this thing, we are going to die!”

“Look, you and I both know what professor says about visions,” Sebastian says. He closes the gap between them and moves Kurt toward the brick wall beside them, putting them in the shadows again. “They’re just one path, one road you can take, the only road you get to see. But now that you’ve seen it, you can choose not to follow it.”

“I am,” Kurt says, but his voice sounds weak. He _feels_ weak, pulled in too many directions, none of them good, every single one leading to a tragic and unhappy end. Kurt is still shaking his head when defeat settles in. He knows Sebastian is right. He knows the Death Eaters will find him. He knows they’ll torture him and kill his father…if he’s lucky. He knows he’ll be forced to fight, and when he does, he might not have a choice who he kills.

But if he chooses the side of right, then good might win – even if he personally doesn’t.

Do what’s right, not what’s easy.

What if doing what’s right takes away everything he has?

“What do you expect me to do?” Kurt asks.

“I expect you to take my hand,” Sebastian says, holding it out to him. “I want you to follow me home.” He leans forward until he’s nose to nose with Kurt, close enough to see how his eyes fill with tears, and how he’s using all his strength to hold them back. “I want you to help me change the future.”

Kurt sucks in a quick breath.

“And what if we…what if we can’t?” Kurt asks with a dread in his voice uncharacteristic of the brilliantly dark wizard Sebastian knew and fell in love with. “What if we go back and get killed and it doesn’t change anything?” A picture from his vision flashes through his skull, of watching Sebastian skewered at the end of a jagged tree branch by a grotesque troll, eyes bulging, blood pouring from his mouth, before Kurt himself falls victim of the Killing Curse, the words _filthy Mudblood_ and _traitor_ stinging his ears.

“Have faith,” Sebastian says, shrugging but not looking at all unsure of his decision to go – with or without Kurt. “Try to picture the future differently. See with better eyes than you have. And remember that no matter what happens, I’ll always be by your side.” Sebastian kisses Kurt, softly, gently, and Kurt whimpers.

At least Sebastian’s right about that. According to Kurt’s vision, they’re standing right beside one another when they die.

“What do you say, Hummel?” Sebastian asks. “Are you ready to take on the Dark Lord and his army with me?”

Kurt looks from Sebastian’s glittering green eyes down to his outstretched hand, the Dark Mark seared onto his arm slithering, trying to answer a distant call.

Kurt doesn’t have faith in much – not in the power of good to defeat evil, not in his own abilities, not in anyone or anything to change the future.

But he _does_ have faith in Sebastian.

“This is suicide,” Kurt says, his hand creeping up from his side to take Sebastian’s.

Sebastian chuckles.

“That’s what makes it fun.”

Kurt scoffs but Sebastian grabs his hand, and with a clap like thunder the two disappear as mist into the night.

 


End file.
